Noël
by YoureMyTicket
Summary: The Musketeers Christmas Special that never was, or perhaps an early draft of what a Christmas Special could have looked like had one been aired after Season 1. Annamis-centric, but features POV's from all the boys and several other main characters.
1. Christmas Eve

**A/N: Hello, and happy holidays everyone. This was inspired by a friend's Tumblr post about such a special, and I've tried to incorporate a lot of ideas from it. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**Christmas Eve**

As they came around the bend leading into the wooded part of the road, d'Artagnan spotted a horse and cart with two passengers further up, seemingly traveling at a leisurely pace. Looking behind him at the carriage he and his brothers were escorting to Paris, he then looked over to Athos, who was riding in front with him.

"Do you think they could be a ploy? Another ambush?" d'Artagnan asked. After three incidents of envoys being robbed on the road, the King had ordered an escort to be arranged for his next guest, Cardinal Guidi di Bagno, who carried with him the belt of the Virgin from LePuy, which as Tréville had informed them, was a holy relic that was customarily lent to expectant French queens. No public announcement had been made yet, but d'Artagnan figured all of Paris would soon know the Queen is with child once the belt is presented to her at tonight's mass.

Athos looked ahead for another second before turning to him. "We'll ask if we can go around, check them out while we do." Athos spoke then to the driver, "We're going to clear the way, you can increase the speed once we do."

Once the driver nodded in understanding, d'Artagnan and Athos urged their horses into a canter.

Coming up to the simple cart, d'Artagnan saw a few sacks, some tools, and a guitar in the back. Sitting at the front were a young man and woman. They turned their heads towards the approaching hoofbeats on both sides.

"Afternoon," Athos greeted in an even tone as the cart was pulled to a stop.

Now that they were next to them, d'Artagnan could see that the man had both hands on the reins but the woman's hands were hidden under a heavy blanket covering their laps. It was cold out, but the blanket bulged as if the woman was holding something, and since Athos had their attention, d'Artagnan slowly moved his hand towards his pistol.

"Afternoon, monsieur," the man replied with a soft smile. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Yes, do you mind if our party passes, we are in a hurry."

The two of them looked back to see the carriage, and Aramis and Porthos on either side of it. "Oh, not at all," the man quickly answered.

"Yes, do not let us hamper your journey," the woman added, and taking a hand out, pulled the blanket away, revealing her left hand where it rested on her swollen belly. D'Artagnan relaxed his body in relief and the hand on his pistol fell away. "My husband insists we not go too fast out of caution for my condition, though I keep telling him a quicker pace would rock the baby to sleep and give me a break from all the kicking," she continued, chuckling lightly.

Athos gave a small, amiable smile. "Thank you." He met d'Artagnan's eyes and they silently agreed that they weren't a threat.

Pulling their horses away, d'Artagnan bid the couple a good day.

"You as well. Oh, and have a Joyeux Noël!" the man shouted after them.

D'Artagnan looked back over his shoulder. "Joyeux Noël," he responded, working up a small smile of his own, though it quickly fell once he turned away. There wasn't much to be joyous about this Christmas. First Christmas as an orphan, away from home, and he couldn't even celebrate it with Constance. Plus, he had to stay up tonight and accompany Their Majesties to this special Midnight Mass.

While the couple directed their horse closer to the edge of the road, he and Athos waited for the carriage to catch up and then continued on their way. They didn't get very far though before d'Artagnan heard a lone bird call. He briefly thought it might be Aramis, but he was riding on the opposite side from where the sound came, and d'Artagnan knew he wouldn't do that at a time like this.

But a leader of a raiding party would.

Leaves flew up from the ground as a rope sprang across the road before them, and d'Artagnan was nearly thrown from his horse as the animal suddenly jumped over the obstacle.

"Ambush!" Athos yelled, and as d'Artagnan righted himself he saw that Athos had managed to turn his horse away and avoid getting tripped up, but now the carriage had come to a stop as well and about a dozen men were now running out of the trees.

Shots rang out and the horses gave cries of distress. The carriage driver grunted and tumbled over onto the ground. Another volley of shots brought down a few of the attackers as his brothers returned fire. Aiming his own pistol, d'Artagnan shot down one of three men swarming Porthos' horse. Putting away the spent pistol, he led his horse further away and then with a click of his tongue and a couple taps of his heels, urged his horse into a gallop, jumping over the rope and into the group of men, bowling one over and making the other jump out of the way.

Drawing his sword, he dealt a heavy cut across the chest of the man still standing while Porthos jumped off his horse to pull a fourth man away from the door to the carriage. The man who had been knocked over was up again though and was advancing on Porthos with his knife.

"Porthos!" d'Artagnan yelled while he quickly dismounted from his horse.

Hearing the warning, Porthos turned toward d'Artagnan and brought the bandit with him, just in time to be stabbed by his fellow attacker. Before the knife could be pulled out to be used on Porthos, d'Artagnan pulled out his main gauche and stabbed the man in the kidney, instantly killing him and ending the fighting on their side.

They took a second to catch their breath, but then d'Artagnan saw Porthos looking past him with narrowed eyes. "D'Artagnan!" he said with alarm.

Turning his head, d'Artagnan saw the man from the cart running towards the other side of the carriage, where the clashing of blades could still be heard.

"Hey!" d'Artagnan yelled.

Turning back to Porthos, he dislodged his blade from the attacker and Porthos pushed the body away before they ran after the man.

D'Artagnan came around the back of the carriage and watched as the man tackled a bandit who had Aramis pinned on the ground, his knife pushing down on Aramis's main gauche, which was dangerously close to his throat.

As Aramis' rescuer got to his knees, the bandit swiftly turned over, using the force to drive the butt of his knife into the man's skull, upon which he heavily fell back onto the ground.

Adjusting the grip on his knife, the bandit raised his arm to throw it at Aramis, who was trying to get to his feet, but then Athos appeared behind him, and drove his sword into the bandit's heart.

Pulling his sword out, Athos then went down on one knee next to the man from the cart, who was lying motionless on the ground.

"Is he dead?" d'Artagnan asked, fearing the worst.

Athos laid a hand on the man's chest and held it there for several seconds. "Knocked out," he said to d'Artagnan's relief. "Is Bagno unharmed?"

"I'll check." Approaching the carriage, he announced that the fighting was over before opening the door to see Cardinal Guidi di Bagno curled up in the corner behind his young secretary, who lowered the small knife he was holding once he recognized d'Artagnan.

"Your Eminence, are you all right?"

Patting his secretary's arm in thanks, Bagno unfurled, righting his red cap over his greying hair as he did. "Ye-yes, my boy, thank you. My heart may need restarting, but we are both unharmed."

D'Artagnan nodded. "We will need a few minutes to assess the situation here, but we intend to get you to Paris as quickly as we can. Please remain in the carriage in the meantime."

"You don't have to worry about that, I think my legs are rooted to the floor." With a shaky but reassuring smile, Bagno let him go.

Returning to the others, d'Artagnan saw that Aramis was seated on the ground and Porthos was wrapping a bandage around his calf.

"Bagno is all right," he informed Athos. "What happened to Aramis?"

"Knife slash. Fairly shallow though, might not need stitches."

"David?" came a woman's voice behind them, and d'Artagnan turned to see the man's wife hurrying, well, more like waddling, towards them.

"Madame, wait, stay back," d'Artagnan urged her, blocking her path. He didn't think she should see the dead bodies or that of her husband's, even though he was still breathing.

"Why? Is he hurt, is he…?" her eyes widened and a hand went over her mouth before she tried to move past him.

"Please stay calm. He is alive," Athos said behind him, "but he was knocked unconscious and is bleeding a little. If you would just wait at the back of the carriage, d'Artagnan will bring your cart over and Porthos will lift your husband onto it so that you can tend to him."

D'Artagnan wasted no time in bringing the cart over, and while Porthos lifted the man, David, onto the back, Aramis limped over to attend to him, followed by Athos.

"A shot grazed the carriage driver's shoulder and it looks like he hurt his wrist when he fell, but he says he should be able to drive the rest of the way. You and I will ride next to the lead horses to help."

D'Artagnan nodded in acceptance and then they both turned their attention to the young couple. Aramis was cleaning David's head wound while the man's wife looked on.

"What is your name, madame?" d'Artagnan asked her in an effort to distract her.

"Gigi," she answered, though her eyes never left her husband.

"Gigi, my name is d'Artagnan. We are King's Musketeers. Where were you and your husband travelling?"

Taking a deep breath, she turned towards d'Artagnan and tucked a fallen strand of light brown hair behind her ear. "We're on our way to Aubervilliers, where my cousin and her family live. We were hoping to get there tomorrow, but our pace has not been as fast as we thought it would be and now..." she trailed off, looking down at her husband.

"You'll need a place to stay for the night," said Aramis. He turned to Athos. "Let me follow with them and the cart, then once we're near the palace I'll see them settled in the city. I don't need to be there to bring the Cardinal to the King and although Porthos did a fine job wrapping my leg, I would rather tend to it and avoid dripping blood on His Majesty's floors."

Porthos nodded. "Awfully hard to get blood out of carpets."

Athos looked at Aramis for several seconds before responding. "Fine. Where will you bring them? The garrison?"

"Actually I was thinking of Madame Bonacieux," Aramis answered. "The inns will be packed with the holiday and, well, many innkeepers are wary of admitting semi-conscious guests." Aramis directed his gaze to d'Artagnan. "Unless you think it unwise to impose on Constance like this."

"No," he mumbled. "No, you're right, they have the spare room and she'll want to help. It should be all right so long as I'm not there."

"Very well," Athos decided. "We'll just make sure Bagno is all right with it."

MMMMMMMMMM

"Ah, what grand decorations," Cardinal Guidi di Bagno said upon entering the palace, which had been dressed up for Christmas with large floral displays around all the archways, and garlands draped along the staircases and wrapped around the columns.

While Athos watched the man look around with a smile on his face, he tried to block the memories of how Anne had indulged in decorating their home; wreaths hung on every wall sconce, mistletoe hanging over every doorway. How her eyes sparkled when he surprised her and bought silver tinsel for her to add to her decorations.

He exhaled deeply before walking into the throne room, where Cardinal Richelieu stood waiting next to the King, who was seated on his throne. The Queen's throne was empty, but Athos remained glad that Aramis was not here, knowing that his brother would then probably feel the need to make inquiries about her health.

"Cardinal, welcome!" the King proclaimed.

"Your Majesty." Bagno bowed then turned his head toward the Cardinal. "Richelieu. It's good to see you."

"And you as well," Richelieu replied cordially before looking past him to Athos and his brothers. "Weren't four of you sent to escort His Eminence?"

It was Bagno who answered. "I'm afraid we were attacked on the road before entering Paris."

The King raised his eyebrows and leaned forward. "Another attack?"

"And the Musketeer was killed?" the Cardinal pressed, too quickly for Athos to be comfortable with.

"A scratch, but there was a young man nearby who came to help and was injured, the musketeer is seeing to him."

"So he abandoned his assignment."

"It's quite all right, Cardinal, I allowed it."

"The man had his wife traveling with him and she's expecting, she couldn't have taken care of him by herself," Porthos said, coming to Aramis' defense.

"Oh I see, and this couple traveling on Christmas Eve, were their names Mary and Joseph? Was she riding a donkey?" the Cardinal inquired in a mocking tone.

"A horse and cart, actually," d'Artagnan added.

"Hilarious."

The King chuckled. "We are eagerly awaiting the birth of our own savior," he said, smiling widely. Though upon hearing the Cardinal clear his throat and then look pointedly over at their guest, he quickly wiped the grin off his face. "Forgive me, I did not mean to blaspheme our Lord."

Bagno raised a hand. "The pride of a father-to-be. It is easily forgiven, Your Majesty." He smiled and tilted his head towards the empty throne. "I hope the Queen is doing well?"

"Oh yes, she tires easily, but I'm assured everything is progressing as it should."

"Very good, and thanks to your men, the holy belt of the Virgin remains in my possession," Bagno said, motioning to the small chest his secretary held.

"Yes, I'm glad I ordered the escort; three other envoys on their way here with gifts for the Queen were attacked by highwaymen and robbed. I could not let it happen again, especially when such a holy relic was in question."

"I am most gracious, Sire. And if I may," he reached into a bag hanging from his secretary's shoulder and pulled out a small package tied with string. Walking up to the dais, he handed it over to the King. "An early Christmas gift for your child." He then watched as the King untied the string and then picked up a little lion made of cloth. "I believe Louis VIII was known as 'The Lion' on account of his great courage and chivalry."

"He was," the King confirmed as he admired the toy. "I don't know how we'll reach the crib with all the gifts we've received already, and a public announcement hasn't even been made yet." He chuckled softly and turned to the Cardinal, but Richelieu only smiled faintly in return.

The King directed his attention back to Bagno. "You are most kind." He looked to the side where Athos and his brothers were standing. "Musketeers, thank you for bringing His Eminence and his gifts here safely, you are dismissed."

After bowing, Athos led his brothers out, and pondered more about the Cardinal's focus on Aramis. Why would he be so concerned about his whereabouts? Why would he be so impatient to find out whether he was killed?

"By the time the child is born, he'll have a different toy to play with every day of the year," Porthos began, "He'll be spoiled. Meanwhile, kids in the Court will be lucky if they get an extra piece of bread tomorrow for Christmas."

Turning the corner, Athos looked ahead and stopped in his tracks upon seeing the Queen standing at the bottom of the stairs, her hands folded in front of her, and her two ladies-in-waiting standing behind her. "Your Majesty," he greeted her loudly and was relieved to hear the subsequent halting of words, and steps.

MMMMMMMMMM

After nearly crashing into Athos, Porthos hastily bent in half and fixed his eyes on the floor, hoping that the Queen hadn't heard him. He knew her to be capable of great kindness but he had also seen how she turned the Cardinal into a quivering puddle on the church floor, and he wasn't sure how she would respond to comments about spoiling her longed-for child.

"Athos, have you just left the King?" the Queen asked in an even voice.

Porthos remained in a bow while Athos straightened up next to him. "Yes, Your Majesty. We have just brought Cardinal Guidi di Bagno to him."

"If you would escort me to them, messieurs," she said, making Porthos think that she had heard and wanted to report him to the King.

Lifting his head up, he briefly met Athos' eyes and dipped his chin in acceptance before leading the way with Athos while d'Artagnan brought up the rear.

Coming back into the room, they were met with curious looks until they stepped aside to let the Queen through.

"Ah, my dear, how are you?" the King inquired cheerfully.

"Well, Sire." She stopped in front of Bagno. "Please excuse my lateness, I'm trying to get as much rest as possible so that I won't be falling asleep tonight during Midnight Mass."

"Of course, Your Majesty's health is of the utmost importance," he replied with a bow. 'And may I say you already have the glow of motherhood."

Porthos thought she had looked somewhat pale, but the smile she gave did seem to illuminate her features.

"His Eminence had to endure an attack by highwaymen to bring his gifts," the Cardinal informed her.

"Oh my, I hope you are all right," the Queen asked, lightly touching Bagno's arm.

"I am, thank the Lord."

"One of the Musketeers was not so fortunate though," the Cardinal added, and the Queen stiffened while the brightness drained from her face. Porthos wondered if she had noticed Aramis' absence; she was fond of him.

"A minor injury," Bagno was quick to assure her. "The good samaritan who came to help needed more attention."

The concern in her eyes remained for another second or two before falling away. "I am glad." She turned to the Cardinal and the King. "Though we must do something about these attacks."

"I will have my men look into it, Your Majesties, though perhaps in the meantime we should discourage future journeys, after all it is still quite early," the Cardinal suggested.

"What do you mean, Cardinal?" the King asked, frowning.

"We should not be sending clerics and dignitaries on such dangerous journeys, and risk the news spreading further when the child has not quickened yet," the Cardinal simply answered. Then, in a lower voice added, "And even then…"

Porthos saw the Queen's lips part and her hand go to her stomach.

"I_ do not _like what you are implying, Cardinal. And I will not tolerate such talk," the King said forcefully.

"Forgive me, Sire," he inclined his head towards the Queen. "Your Majesty. I meant no ill will. I was merely referring to tradition, to history."

"Rest assured, Cardinal, after tonight, the child will have the blessing and protection of the Holy Mother, and will be kicking in no time," Bagno offered with a smile, breaking up the tense air.

"Indeed he will," the King confirmed before standing up. "Come and sit, Madame, I have something to show you." He put the toy and its wrappings on his seat and gave the Queen a helping hand up the dais steps. Once she was seated, he picked up the toy and then practically shoved the wrappings into Richelieu's hands. "A gift from His Eminence, for the baby."

Once the Queen accepted the toy the King sat back down, gleefully looking on. She let out a soft "oh" as she turned it over in her hands before smiling sweetly to the King and then Bagno. "Thank you, for these special gifts," she told him, "You must be tired, though, after such a journey. Please, allow my ladies to show you to your rooms - our physician is also at your disposal if you need him."

"If you can get him to look up from his books," the King said, looking over to Richelieu.

"An avid book-reader, is he?"

"Very much so," answered the King. "Wants to rearrange the whole library, too."

"Then I might call on him for the conversation alone. But later, perhaps. I would also rather not fall asleep during mass tonight," said Bagno, giving the Queen a small smile.

With a slight nod of her head, the Queen directed her ladies to lead Bagno and his secretary out.

"Perhaps if they get along we'll let Bagno keep him," the King said under his voice to the Cardinal. "As a gift."

The Queen turned to the King then, and Porthos' felt his stomach knotting up. "Sire, I asked the Musketeers to be here as I've had an idea. Why don't we hand out food and blankets to families in the Court of Miracles, for Christmas. My mother used to do something similar."

Porthos raised his eyebrows in surprise. So she did hear him.

"This is not Spain, Your Majesty," Richelieu stated before the King could offer his own response.

The Queen's eyes flashed over to the Cardinal. "No, this is France, and we can do better, can we not?" she replied, a hint of a challenge in her voice. She then looked back to the King. "It's Christmas. We should give to those less fortunate, especially when we have been so blessed."

The King smiled and patted her on the hand. "You have such a generous heart, my dear, but I would not have you going out there."

"No," the Queen agreed, "but perhaps the King's Musketeers could go in our stead?"

Three pairs of eyes turned to Porthos and his brothers.

MMMMMMMMMM

Hearing someone knock at the door, Constance put down the bedding she was fetching and opened it to see Athos, alone, standing before her.

Athos inclined his head. "Madame. I hope you are well."

Constance only gave a small smile as she opened the door wider and let him in. She was miserable; stuck in the house most of the time, only going out to the market and to help Bonacieux with the business. When Aramis had appeared at her door with David and Gigi, she was more than happy to have something to do. She had missed the action, the adventure, and most of all she missed her friends.

"Thank you for taking in David and Gigi."

"Of course. It's Christmas Eve, they'd have a hard time finding a place anywhere else." There was also the fact that the emptiness of d'Artagnan's old room was driving her crazy. It was so easy to imagine him in there when no one else was, though she wasn't exactly sure having a young couple who were so in love and about to start their family was helping to heal the ache in her heart.

"How is he?"

"Fine, we cleaned him up and he's on strict bed rest for the remainder of the day. Aramis is sitting with them, probably making the poor woman go into month by month details by now."

Athos frowned and tilted his head in question.

"Lots of questions about the baby."

Constance thought she saw a muscle in Athos' jaw twitch. "Ah...yes, well, with his medical knowledge and love for women, Aramis is always eager to learn about the female body." Athos then looked around the room. "Is Monsieur Bonacieux home?"

"Business trip. Got a letter from him yesterday saying he was invited by some noble to stay for their big feast," Constance answered, her mood darkening at the change in subject. They were lucky he was away for he probably would have tried to dissuade her from taking in their current guests in the state they were in, and he certainly wouldn't have liked d'Artagnan's friends being here. "How long do you think they'll stay?"

"I don't know. Couple of nights? If David is up for it, they might want to get back on the road as soon as possible, especially with Gigi's condition."

Constance hummed in agreement. "She said she only had a few more weeks to go."

"Look, if they're not able to pay, let me know, and we'll help."

"Thank you, Athos. You know I wouldn't mind, but Bonacieux…"

"It's fine," Athos assured her. "Do you need any help with that?" He asked, looking pointedly at the bedding.

Constance shook her head. "Go ahead, I just need a couple more things."

MMMMMMMMMM

The door was open to the room and as Athos approached, he could hear a man talking, though it certainly wasn't Aramis' voice.

"I thought I was seeing things, but then it happened again - her whole belly bounced!"

Gigi chuckled. "The baby had the hiccups!"

Turning into the room, Athos saw David laying on the bed, a strip of linen wrapped around his head a few times, contrasting starkly with his dark skin. Gigi sat in a chair perpendicular to the bed, her hands resting on her stomach and her feet resting on the end of the bed. Aramis was seated next to her, his wounded leg straight out in front of him and propped up on his heel.

"Athos," Aramis acknowledged him before returning his attention back to Gigi. "Hiccups, really?"

"She didn't listen when I told her the baby had had enough wine for the night, insisted on having another glass," David teased, making Gigi laugh.

Athos took advantage of the break in conversation. "I see you're awake, monsieur."

David looked over to him. "Yes. I thank you and your friends for taking care of my wife and I."

"It is the least we could do after you so selflessly came to Aramis' aide, though I regret you had to join the fray at all." He turned to Gigi. "And you are well, madame?"

"As well as can be this far along," she replied, rubbing her swollen stomach.

"You said you were on your way to your cousin? For the holiday?"

"We had hoped to be there by Christmas, yes," Gigi answered, and then looked sadly over to her husband, "but we are also moving in with her."

"A flood swept through our village a few days ago, destroying most of our home." David explained. "With the baby set to come in a few weeks, I didn't think there was enough time to rebuild, and we worry that it will just happen again, being so close to the river as we were."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Athos.

"My cousin Lisette has always said we are welcome in her home. She herself had her first child last year, so it will be nice for us all to be together and be able to help each other out."

Stepping aside, Athos made way for Constance, who had entered the room with her small stack of sheets and blankets, along with a couple of pillows on top of it.

Aramis stood up and motioned for Constance to set the items on the chair. "Well, David, as I said, you don't seem to have a concussion, but I think you should wait to resume your travels until the day after tomorrow at the least. Use this opportunity to catch up on some rest, both of you."

"Oh, I don't know…"

"Please, I'd love to have some company for Christmas," Constance added cheerily, and though Athos knew she was helping Aramis to further encourage the couple to stay, the hopefulness in her expression while she waited for a response told him how much she truly meant it.

"I suppose a couple days rest would do us good," Gigi began, looking over at her husband, "and we would still reach Lisette by the New Year."

David looked down in thought for a few seconds before looking up to Constance. "If we're not intruding…"

"Not at all," Constance quickly assured him.

"Then we'll stay."

Aramis clapped his hands together. "Wonderful. And I'll try to stop by tomorrow to look in on you."

After saying their goodbyes, and then a brief stop in the kitchen to inquire about Aramis' leg, Athos finally got Aramis out of the house.

Turning the corner, he put a hand on Aramis' arm to stop him. "Tell me, if the Cardinal was so desperate for an heir he was willing to assassinate the Queen, why would he now suggest that news of the Queen's pregnancy not be spread yet?"

Aramis frowned for a second before shrugging a shoulder. "Who knows how that man's mind works."

"Aramis, could he know?"

"No," Aramis answered quickly. "What exactly did he say?"

"Just that it was early. The child has not quickened yet and news of the Queen's pregnancy should not be spread before then. It seems he thinks there might be a chance the pregnancy will not end well..." The Cardinal's excuse might have been easy for the others to believe, but Athos did not like the fact that he brought it up, nor the way his eyes had lingered on the Queen, as if he had been looking to see how she would react.

Aramis gave a low growl. "Then he's probably referring to something from years ago, before we were Musketeers."

Athos quirked an eyebrow and Aramis shifted on his feet, looking at the ground briefly before meeting his eyes. "When the Queen was pregnant with the King's child, but then lost the baby. The man has no heart if he would remind her of it now, not that she needs reminding."

"What do you mean?" He had heard of the Queen's pregnancy and the subsequent stillbirth back when it happened, but there was something about the familiarity with which Aramis spoke of it.

Aramis suddenly looked very weary. "Losing a child is not something a person easily forgets. Are you done interrogating me?"

"No. The Cardinal also wanted to know why you weren't there when we brought Bagno in. He was concerned you might have been killed."

Aramis put a hand over his heart. "I'm touched."

"And he made sure to point out your absence to the Queen." Athos glowered at him and Aramis finally gave a defeated sigh.

"He came upon us after the announcement, saw us saying goodbye, _that's all_," he stressed. "He's just grasping at straws because he doesn't like that she has the King's favour now, that she has power over him."

"Then you better make sure he never gets his hands on anything tangible."

"Athos, I haven't even seen her since, you know that," Aramis replied, starting to sound annoyed, and Athos had to admit that he did indeed know it to be true; the man barely went out anymore, spending most of his time at the tavern with them or alone in the garrison chapel. He even volunteered to not go to the palace today, despite having a reason to, though Athos suspected Gigi's condition had a part in that.

"_I will_ be going with you all to Midnight Mass, though," Aramis continued. "I will not be shirking my duty and leaving them vulnerable because of him _or_ my leg."

"It's not up to me whether or not you go; Tréville's the one you'll have to convince if he raises any objections about your leg. Now, I would like to return to the garrison and get some food and rest before tonight, I suggest you do the same if you intend on going."

Aramis held his gaze for a second before relaxing and turning away. They had only taken a couple of steps when Aramis looked over to him, but then decided not to voice whatever he was going to say.

"What?" Athos asked.

Aramis shook his head. "No, it's fine. Forget it."

"Aramis," Athos pressed, bringing them to a stop. He'd rather Aramis tell him anything and everything that was on his mind.

"I was only wondering…" Aramis started. He put his hands on his hips before leaning closer. "Otherwise, did she look well?"

MMMMMMMMMM

"Any survivors?"

"No."

"It will be harder to convince them now that they'll be up against Musketeers."

"You should stop your visits for a while anyway, wait until Easter-time to resume our...operation. By then the lost souls will have been forgotten, the rest will be hungry for money again, and the potential prizes more tempting."

"Indeed. And the Musketeers might grow lax by then, assume these highwaymen have given up."

Richelieu stroked his goatee and hummed in agreement as he turned away from the window and took a seat at his desk. "One of the Musketeers was injured in today's attack, the one I want information on." _Perhaps distracted by a secret weighing heavily on his mind?_ "Anything useful from your mistress?"

"I'm afraid not. It appears that he has also decided to lie low for awhile. She says the widows of Paris are mourning his absence from their requiem masses."

"And no gossip about any attachments at the palace?"

"Nothing. Adele leaving him and the loss of the nun seems to have deeply affected him."

"So it seems. Still, I want him watched, I want to know anything you hear about him. I won't have him undermining me and conducting any more of his affairs under my nose."

"Of course, Cardinal."

"Be careful that your mistress doesn't get too close though; he might seduce her as well," he cautioned before starting to examine some of the papers on his desk.

"I've already warned her, I assure you. I know of his reputation, how he...crossed you."

Richelieu lifted his eyes to meet Allard's. "Yes, and if he isn't careful about how high he aims, about taking things that don't belong to him, he'll come to regret it." He lowered his gaze back to his papers. "Will you be spending Christmas with your family?" His eyes flickered back up to catch Allard's face go slightly pale.

Allard cleared his throat. "Yes, I will."

"How nice, wish them a Joyeux Noël for me," Richelieu said, enjoying how Allard smiled weakly at him before inclining his head and leaving.

Setting his papers down and sitting back in his chair, Richelieu went over the little information he had gathered and the possible avenues he could explore. So far there was nothing of real use, but it was indeed early and as time goes on, and the Queen's pregnancy progresses, someone might slip. Otherwise he'll have to play the long game and wait for the child to be born to see if it bears any resemblance to the Musketeer, but even then it won't be easy to tell right away, especially with Aramis and the King sharing such similar colouring.

Richelieu sighed. If the Queen used the opportunity of the besieged convent to try and conceive a child with another man and chose Aramis for that reason, then she was far more cold and calculating than he thought. But he had seen how she looked at the Musketeer as he kissed her hand, holding it to his lips for far longer than any cordial goodbye. There were feelings there and it would be far better for him if love was involved. Love was harder to hide, love makes you vulnerable. It makes you falter under threats and give into demands, just to protect the one you love.

* * *

A/N: For those of you who, like me, may have forgotten his name, Father Allard is a character from Season 2.

Historical background/inspiration:

-"After the king publicly announced the queen's pregnancy, at the end of April when the child quickened, prayers rose on all sides in thanksgiving and to ask for a safe delivery. Even earlier a flood of relics had started to pour into Saint-Germain, starting in early February with the belt of the Virgin from LePuy, customarily lent to all French queens when they were with child" - Ruth Kleinman, _Anne of Austria_

-The King's side remarks about his physician refer to Gabriel Naudé, who was his physician before becoming Cardinal Guidi di Bagno's librarian in 1629. Richelieu had intended to make Naudé his librarian but after his death, Naudé accepted a similar offer from Cardinal Mazarin

-Anne's mother's birthday was December 25th, and "in 1609 she clothed six couples, each of whom had a newborn child, clearly a Christmas commemoration of the Holy Family; the following year, she clothed seven couples and their newborns. The numbers in each year mirrored the number of children she herself had borne, suggesting her method of adding personal significance to her birthday observation" - Ruth Kleinman, _Anne of Austria_


	2. Christmas Day

**Christmas Day**

They came to a stop at the entrance to the Court. "Wait here, I'll go in first," Porthos told his brothers before readjusting his grip on the sack slung over his shoulder. He and his brothers had saved the place from being turned into a pile of rubble, but they were still the King's soldiers.

Walking through, he was inundated with memories of his Christmases spent here as a child and then a teenager; how he and his friends would exchange gifts consisting of whatever they could scavenge or make, and how he would nick sweets and other items to give to his friends and the younger children when he was older. It wasn't always much, but they made the most of it.

"Miss me?" came the voice of the person he was looking for. He couldn't stop the corner of his mouth from lifting into a smirk; he had always saved the best gifts for her.

Porthos turned around to see Flea leaning against an archway on the side of the street. "I've come with an offering for the Queen of the Court," he answered with a sweeping bow.

"Oh? What kind of offering?" she asked, eyeing the sack.

Porthos walked up to her and placed the sack before her, and then opened it up to let her look inside. "Blankets and food, for the children, courtesy of Their Majesties. My brothers have the rest."

"What, did that priest bring them a sob story, guilt them into giving us their rags and leftovers?"

"It was sort of my idea, actually," Porthos informed her, though he tried to look nonchalant about it. "Who's this priest though?"

Flea shrugged. "He started coming around the beginning of the month, for the Christmas season or something, offering handouts and help for men looking for work."

"What kind of work?"

"Fixing up some decrepit convent outside the city."

"Why hire thieves and the like instead of masons and carpenters?"

"Cheaper labour," Flea answered, crossing her arms. "And more disposable."

His eyebrows knitted together. "Did something happen?"

"Fire broke out while they were working and they were trapped, all of them."

Porthos bowed his head. "I'm sorry."

Flea just nodded her head and looked to the side. "Sébastien!" she suddenly called out to one of the children running by, "go get your friends and bring them by the entrance, I have a treat for you." She turned back to Porthos, "Come on, we could use some Christmas cheer."

It wasn't long after Porthos and Flea reached his brothers - whereupon they presented him with a green robe to wear - that a gaggle of about a dozen small children came running up to them, to which Flea instructed they were to each get a blanket from Porthos, or rather Father Christmas, an apple from Aramis, and a piece of bread from either Athos or d'Artagnan.

They were almost finished handing out the items when Porthos heard a small voice calling out.

"Wait! Wait for us!"

He looked ahead and saw a little girl hurrying down the street, pulling along an even younger girl, her sister it looked like, who was struggling to keep up.

"Slow down, Manon, there's still some left for you and Madeline," said Flea with a slightly exasperated shake of her head as her warning was ignored. She turned to Porthos. "They lost their brother in the fire."

Porthos frowned in sorrow for them before hastily replacing it with a smile as they came to a halt in front of them, gasping for breath and pulling loose light-brown hair away from their dirty faces. "Don't worry, don't worry, we've got ya." He draped a couple of blankets over the thin cloaks already on their shoulders and watched them go down the rest of the line.

The younger sister, Madeline, had been clutching something close to her side, partially hidden under her cloak, a toy, Porthos had presumed, and when she reached to take the offered piece of bread, the toy fell. Aramis was closest and despite his sore leg, was quick to kneel down and pick it up, though he didn't immediately give it back. He just stared down at the item in his hand, and it made Porthos wonder if he was thinking of Agnes and little Henry.

When Aramis began to turn the toy over in his hands though, Porthos leaned over to get a better look. It was shaped like a fish, with fins of bright red and a body of brilliant blue; colours too rich to belong in the Court.

Athos stepped closer. "That looks like…"

"A gift for the future dauphin," Aramis finished.

MMMMMMMMMM

Tréville stormed into Richelieu's office. "Cardinal, if you are behind this…"

Richelieu looked up from his desk and sighed. "Haven't you ever heard of a holiday, Captain?"

Tréville stopped and leaned onto the desk with both hands. "This isn't work?" he asked, looking pointedly at the ledgers and letters on the Cardinal's desk.

"Reading for pleasure," he answered. Standing up, he then reached for the decanter on his desk and poured more wine into his glass. "Now what is it you're accusing me of?"

"The highwaymen, you hired them."

"I thought highwaymen were supposed to be just that, men who hid in bushes on the side of the road to rob anyone who passed by."

"They're not just robbing anyone though, are they? They're going after people of importance, people on their way to the palace, carrying costly gifts and money."

"Perhaps they should not travel in such expensive carriages then, makes them prime targets."

"The robbers would still know who they are and when they were coming because you're telling them!"

"You have no proof."

"The increase in funds to the Treasury, it's not just because of a good harvest, is it?"

"That is a question for the Minister of Finance," Richelieu answered, continuing to deflect.

"You're taking a cut. You hire men from the Court of Miracles and then get a cut of what they loot."

"You seem to forget that I had to let go of my agent and that your men then ran her out of Paris. Unless you're proposing that I'm the one going into that rat-infested hell-hole. Tell me, have you already gotten into the Christmas spirits, Captain?"

"Father Allard, he's your go-between. He's been going in there to take confessions, but instead he's spilling travel plans."

"If that were true, then why would I continue this scheme knowing that your Musketeers would be escorting our latest guest?"

Tréville was silent for a few seconds before coming to a conclusion. He lifted his chin. "To use my Musketeers to help with your rat-infestation."

Richelieu only chuckled, and it frustrated Tréville to see how little the man cared for people, how easily he was willing to use or lose them.

"I could have lost my best men," Tréville added with a snarl.

"Then they wouldn't have been the best, would they? If they were defeated by a bunch of simple thugs."

Tréville took a deep breath. "Swear to end your scheme now and I will not go to the Queen. I will tell my men to let it go, that you had no part in it."

Richelieu stared at him. "I can assure you, Captain, that Father Allard's visits to the Court were only in light of the Christmas season; they will not carry into the new year."

"Good enough. But I would be careful if I were you. If you cross the line, the Queen will go to the King and tell him everything."

"And if I were you I would not rely on threats to go running to the Queen and tattling on me."

Tréville looked at him incredulously. "Why not?"

"She may have the King wrapped around her finger now, but it might not last very long."

Tréville narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Richelieu put a hand over where his heart should be. "I of course pray it doesn't happen, but this pregnancy could end like the first one, or it could turn out similar to that of another queen consort named Anne. Anne Boleyn..."

Tréville's eyebrows knitted ever further together. "What?" he asked, genuinely confused as to why the Cardinal would bring her up.

The Cardinal kept his eyes locked with his for several seconds before looking away. "Why, the child could be a girl. You see, everyone was expecting a boy, the physicians, the astrologers. Our King Francis had already been approached to be godfather and the proclamations had already been written announcing the birth of an heir, but then 'prince' had to be changed to 'princess'. Terribly embarrassing."

Tréville shook his head, fed up with the Cardinal's antics. "I'll leave you to your Christmas festivities," he said, glancing down at the desk before turning and starting to walk away. "I have some wine waiting for me at the garrison."

MMMMMMMMMM

The air was crisp as Aramis took another swig of cider and watched splinters of wood fly across the far end of the garrison.

"Come on, Aramis, get over there and put an end to this already," said Porthos, walking over to the post he was leaning against. "It's a good thing Tréville lights the real yule log the old fashioned way. They're shooting this one to pieces."

"I'm not up for it this year," Aramis responded as he watched another Musketeer shoot and miss the hollowed out hole filled with gunpowder in the center of the log that would start their small bonfire.

"Now I know d'Artagnan's nursing a broken heart," said Porthos, glancing over to the table where their friends sat looking forlorn, "and, well, Athos doesn't like how they 'anoint' that thing with wine before lighting it - which," Porthos laid a hand over his heart "I am in agreement with - but you love Christmas, what happened to your holiday cheer?"

He shrugged and took another sip.

"Hey," Porthos said, and when Aramis looked over he was met with narrowed eyes. "You're not still cut-up about Charlotte Mellendorf, are you? You two couldn't have gotten that close."

Aramis shook his head. "No, it's not her, not entirely." He sighed. "It has to do more with love in general; how often it doesn't work out. Look at what happened with d'Artagnan and Constance. Athos and Milady. You and Alice, or even Flea. Christmas is about being with your loved ones, but all we have here are a bunch of broken hearts."

"Maybe so, but this bunch of broken hearts is still a family."

Aramis clapped a hand onto Porthos' shoulder and gave him a half smile. "You're right, of course it is." He could always count on Porthos to speak the truth and make him see what he was missing. He still had his brothers and he should cherish that.

"Porthos, Aramis, over here," called Tréville from the table Athos and d'Artagnan were sitting at.

As they approached, Aramis saw that he had a letter in his hand. Tréville held it up once they reached the table. "A summons from the Queen."

Aramis could feel his broken heart hobble to attention at the thought of seeing her again. He had seen her hours ago, escorting Their Majesties to and from Midnight Mass, but from a distance. Athos had made sure he couldn't get too close, and he had been hesitant to be near her with the Cardinal around as well. Until then he hadn't seen her since finding out about the baby though, and it concerned him how drawn and pale she looked. At mass he managed to overhear some of the nobles talking about how she had been absent from court the past couple of weeks too.

"Does it say why? Is it the Cardinal?" It was getting late. And it was Christmas. Why wouldn't she have also asked to see them after mass? The only reason that came to mind was a need for discretion. And that meant it had to do with the Cardinal. _If he threatened her…_

"It doesn't say, but be ready in ten and we'll find out soon enough."

He barely registered Tréville's response, fear and anger taking over his mind. As the others dispersed to ready their horses, he took out his pistol and walked over to the line of Musketeers taking shots at the faux yule log.

"Excuse me messieurs, may I?"

Barely waiting for the men to step back, Aramis raised his pistol and squeezed the trigger, the bullet hitting the center of the painted target with an explosion of light. Once the cloud of smoke died down, flames could be seen coming up from the log, and the garrison erupted in cheers.

Upon arriving at the palace, they were directed to the library and only had to wait a few minutes for Anne to arrive.

She didn't look panicked, which was a good sign, but it did puzzle him that she was wearing a cloak and what looked like a veil that had been folded back over her hair.

"Forgive me for taking you away from your Christmas celebrations, but I require an escort to church," she announced, her eyes meeting his only for a second before directing her attention to Tréville.

"Did you lose something, Majesty?" asked Tréville, voicing Aramis' own confusion as to why she would need to go to church having been there hours before. He knew she was devout, but this would be a bit extreme. "My men can retrieve it for you if you did," Tréville continued, "there is no need for you to leave the palace."

"I did forget something, but it is not an object you can retrieve." She clasped her hands together. "You see, I started to feel unwell towards the end of mass and neglected to light a candle for my mother before leaving. It would have been her birthday today."

"Are you well enough to go out again?"

"I am now. And while I do not think I need so many Musketeers to accompany me to a church that's practically across the street, the King insisted on four; two for me and two for the baby, he said."

"I will accompany you as well," said Tréville.

"Thank you, Captain, but I would like you to stay with the King while he is still entertaining his guests. The Cardinal has retired to bed claiming fatigue and His Majesty is...very much enjoying the wine." She gave Tréville a knowing look.

"I understand, Majesty."

"Thank you again, Captain." She turned to the four of them. "I have a carriage waiting."

After a nod from Tréville, they set off.

Pulling up to a side entrance, Aramis and his brothers dismounted and then tied their horses to a nearby post before helping Anne out of the carriage, with d'Artagnan opening the door and Porthos giving her a hand down the steps.

"Now it is unnecessary for all four of you to accompany me inside, nor do I want to draw attention, so I'll ask only one of you to go in with me. Aramis?" she said, addressing him directly for the first time that evening. "Did I hear that you were once almost a man of the cloth?"

"Yes, but I…"

"I don't think that would be safe, Your Majesty," Athos cut in.

"I agree," Aramis quickly added. If Athos went in with them, there would be another set of eyes to watch their backs, and it would look less suspicious, not only to Porthos and d'Artagnan, but anyone who recognized them. "Half of us should go in, the other half stay with the carriage."

Anne looked at him quizzically from behind her veil and with his eyes he willed her to trust him.

"One for me, one for the baby is it?" she said to his relief. "Very well, I will not argue with my protectors."

"Porthos, d'Artagnan, you'll watch the carriage and the entrance?" Athos asked.

"Yeah, we got it," Porthos answered.

Following Anne inside, Aramis and Athos hung back by a pillar and watched as Anne approached the rows of candles set up on the side of the church. After lighting one, she kneeled down in front of it. As she knelt, Aramis noticed her left hand on her stomach, cupping an almost imperceptible bump, and his heart constricted at the sight.

He had looked to see if she was showing yet while they were at Midnight Mass, but with the rigid construction of her ornate garment and the multiple pieces that made it up, it was hard to tell. The cloak and dress she was wearing now though were much more simpler and softer, and with her hand accentuating the shape beneath the fabric, the existence of their child became so much more real. But so did the possible threat of danger.

He turned to Athos. "I need to talk to her...in private."

"Oh you do, do you?"

"Clearly she wants to, and still might try. Perhaps the Cardinal does suspect and is trying to intimidate her."

Athos inhaled deeply. "And if she just wanted to light a candle?"

"Then we'll know there's no danger and I'll advise her to be more careful when arranging escorts in the future," he replied, hoping Athos would see the benefits in helping him out.

"And how exactly do you plan on accomplishing this?"

Aramis looked around the church in search of a more secluded spot. Finding one that he thought would suit his needs quite well, he smiled and after silently thanking himself for not bringing his arquebus, took his arms out of the openings in his cloak so that he could turn it around.

Once his cloak was reversed, he put his arms back through the holes, pulled out his crucifix, and handed his hat to Athos, whose brow had formed a deep furrow. "When she's finished tell her to go to confession."

Athos gave him an exasperated sigh as he realised what he was planning and then nodded his head yes.

Crossing his arms to hide his right hand holding his sword straight against his side, Aramis made his way to the confessional booth, doing his best to keep the rows of buttons on his cloak from being seen by the few churchgoers still milling about.

Once inside the empty booth, he sat down and leaned his head back against the wall. Before he could let out a sigh though, he heard someone entering the other side of the booth.

"Maj-" he started to say but immediately stopped himself once he leaned forward and saw the middle-aged woman on the other side of the screen. He coughed to cover up his mistake. "Excuse me." He cleared his throat and sat back. "My child, what brings you here on Christmas night?"

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three days since my last confession," she recited.

"And what did you do in the last three days to warrant a confession on Christmas?"

"I broke a commandment, Father."

"Which commandment?"

"I took the Lord's name in vain"

"Oh, that's not so bad," he said, relieved to hear that the woman hadn't killed anyone, not that he thought she might have, but one never knows.

"Well, I also included the rest of the holy family," she admitted.

"Still..."

"You see Father, I had gone to my son's home for Christmas Eve, and his wife, he married her for her looks I'm afraid, absolutely no housekeeping skills, lets the children run amok, and, well, by this morning I couldn't keep it in any longer and I said, 'Jesus, Mary and Joseph! They would think the manger a palace compared to this place!'"

Aramis had to cough again to suppress the chuckle from escaping.

"And on top of it all she burnt the goose!" the woman added, reminding him that he needed to get Anne in here.

"I see. Em, for your penance, I want you to say ten Hail Marys."

"That's it?"

"And an Our Father and to give your daughter-in-law cooking lessons. Now proceed with the Act of Contrition, child," he said with increasing impatience.

Having finally succeeded in getting the woman out of the booth, he thankfully only had to wait a minute before another woman entered, and this time he made sure to wait for her to lift her veil away to confirm it was in fact Anne kneeling before him.

"Aramis," she breathed. Leaning closer to the screen, she looked him up and down, and then smiled. "Your parents will be pleased."

He chuckled. "More likely they're rubbing their temples and shaking their heads watching me impersonate a priest. Perhaps I should light a couple of candles myself and ask their forgiveness before we leave." Turning serious, he then continued, "I must also ask for you to pardon this charade, I wanted to take this chance to talk to you."

"No, I'm glad for it. I had actually been considering feigning illness so that we could be taken to the rectory, but this way is much better. Does this mean though that Athos..."

"Er, yes, I have a confession to make," he admitted, shifting in his seat. "Athos saw us together that morning, at the convent."

"So he knows about us." She looked down. "And the baby?"

"Yes, but he would never betray us. And he is the only other person who knows, but if anything should happen and you can't reach me or Athos, get Porthos or d'Artagnan, tell them about us, about the baby, they will help you. Even Tréville. He'll want to kill me himself, but he would never allow either of you to come to harm."

Anne was quiet for several seconds, her gaze to the side as she took in his words.

She looked up at him. "Know that I would use all my power to save you," she said softly.

"Don't even think about me for a second. Do whatever it takes to protect yourself, no matter what the consequences are for me."

"But I came to you."

"I mean it. Please...Ana, please..." He stared into her eyes, begging for her to listen. His nose nearly touched the screen he was so close. "_You_ are our son's best hope, not some soldier with nothing to his name. It is you who needs to be safe, not me."

He hated having to talk to her like that. He hated being the cause of her pinched face and watery eyes, but she had to understand what mattered.

Pursing her lips, she nodded.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you."

She shook her head and then wiped her eyes. "You just want to protect our son, and, well, I cry very easily these days."

"You are well though? I hear you've been absent from court." He needed to know they were all right.

"Yes, well my morning sickness tends to last beyond the morning and when I'm not sick I have a headache, so I've been spending most of my time in bed - but it's nothing to worry about," she was quick to assure him. "Actually I...I think I've started to feel flutters."

"Flutters? You mean the baby, kicking?"

"I haven't told anyone yet. I could be wrong, it could just be wishful thinking, I'm trying to remember how it felt..." she trailed off, and he could see it in her eyes that she was looking into the past. Blinking, she looked back at him. "I thought you would like to know."

"Oh, yes, thank you," he answered weakly. He was thankful that she told him, to know how she and the baby were doing, but it pained him to never be able to do anything about it. He wouldn't be able to press a hand to her stomach to try and feel their child's kicks, to tell his friends with pride about how strong his child was growing.

"Aramis, can I ask," Anne started hesitantly, "how far along was Sister Hélène - Isabelle - before…?"

His gaze fell as he recalled the answer. "Only a few months. I don't think she could feel anything yet, or she didn't tell me if she had."

"I'm sorry I can't share this with you, Aramis, truly I am. That's why I wanted to talk to you in private, away from the palace. I hope you can forgive me for not finding a way to talk to you sooner, for deciding what to do without you. I couldn't keep my condition secret for long and the Cardinal was trying to frame an innocent man with powerful connections."

"And he had tried to have you killed for not producing an heir," he added. "No, you did what you had to do and I bear you no ill will for making that decision. I only wish I could have given you my support from the start, that I could always be by your side."

"You are, Aramis. I carry a piece of you, and I will never let anyone take that from me," she said, her voice building with conviction, as well as finally bringing them to the root of his worry.

"The Cardinal, has he threatened you?"

"No, at least, not directly. But he's been discouraging the King from getting too excited about the baby and from telling more people before the child quickens. Even then he'll probably want to wait until he can feel the child for himself."

Aramis clenched his jaw at the thought of Richelieu touching her, touching their child.

"And a couple of nuns from the convent visited recently, to bring gifts for the baby. They said Father Allard had come by a couple weeks ago, to thank them on behalf of the Cardinal for protecting me...and that he also told them I'm with child."

"You think he was investigating our time there?"

"That's what I fear."

"You have nothing to fear, Majesty, for there was nothing for him to find. The nuns don't know anything about us. Only you, me, and Athos know what happened at the convent and it will stay that way. Everything else is baseless speculation, which is why you should not single me out for any missions going forward. Treat me, and Athos even, as you do Porthos and d'Artagnan or any other Musketeer. Be indifferent if you think it best; there can be no hint of anything between us."

"I understand. I promise."

"And I promise only to be a loyal servant to you and your son."

Silence followed as they accepted the reality of their futures, and it should have been the end of their meeting, but Aramis didn't want her to leave just yet.

"What were the gifts?" he asked.

"Hmm?"

"From the nuns."

"Oh, several pairs of little knitted socks." He could see her smile softly to herself through the screen. "They're quite precious."

"That was very kind of them."

"I know I shouldn't be thinking too far ahead, but I would hope that one day I can return to the convent and introduce them to my son, and show him a place I hold so dear in my heart."

And Aramis knew he shouldn't be thinking about it either, but he found himself wishing he could go on such a visit. "I have every faith that you will, one day, once the Cardinal is no longer suspicious, but for now I would advise you to stay close to the King. Tell him about the flutters."

Anne let out a mirthless laugh. "When I was a little girl, my father would spend so much more time with my mother and us when she was with child. It annoyed his own first minister to no end. I always thought it romantic and hoped my husband would be so attentive. Now, I wish…" She shook her head.

"This is a confessional, Majesty," he prompted, "if there was ever a place to tell me what's on your mind, it's here."

"God forgive me but I wish I could kiss you," she whispered, "one last time."

Pinching his eyes shut, he let his head hit the side of the confessional next to the screen and exhaled. He had lost count of the amount of times he had dreamed of kissing her again.

Opening his eyes, he looked down in front of him and saw the edge of the screen hanging there, just below the bottom of the cut-out in the wall that separated them. He took off his cloak, then he reached out and started to lift the screen up and away from the opening.

Anne's eyes widened and she moved back as she watched him stick his arm and then his head into her side of the confessional. "Oh, Aramis, you don't have to..."

Placing one hand above the opening on his side and the other below it on her side, he twisted and angled his body to face her as best he could. "I'd much rather this be the one time I have my neck stretched, if at all," he told her with a smile.

"That's not funny," she admonished him, though he could tell she only half meant it.

"My apologies, I did not realise this was an audition for court jester, I thought you wanted a-"

He saw her flash a grin before leaning forward to stop him from talking any more.

They both went into the kiss eagerly, joyfully even, but Aramis quickly found himself drawing it out, and Anne responding in kind, as the finality of it began to sink in. He wanted to map out and memorize the shape and feel of her lips, to note how her fingers glided through his hair and gripped the stands as she pressed him closer.

They separated after one last longing kiss, but their noses remained touching and Anne's eyes remained closed. He could tell that she wanted more. He brought his hand up to her cheek and pressed her head back slightly. When her eyes met his he nodded; this had to be it. She nodded in return, signalling that she understood.

His hand still on her cheek, he moved it to the back of her head and gently brought her forward so that he could lay a kiss on her forehead. "For your headaches."

She gave him a small smile in thanks. Then, just as he was about to leave her side of the confessional, she reached out. Looking down, he saw that she had taken ahold of his dangling crucifix. After rubbing her thumb across the metal, she kissed it. "For the continued safety of your neck."

Taking her hand, he waited until he felt her let go of the necklace before bringing her hand to his lips for one final kiss-

"Madame," said Athos in a low voice just outside the confessional, making the both of them jump apart, which meant Aramis hitting the back of his head against the dividing wall with a soft thunk. "I do believe it has started to snow," Athos continued, "and the others are waiting outside."

Anne had covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the small gasp that escaped after Athos startled them, but then she began to reach out towards him. Aramis stopped her hand and shook his head. "I'm fine," he mouthed, bringing her hand to his lips once more to finally lay a quick kiss on her knuckles. "Go."

Passing a man with a few tiny snowflakes on his shoulder, Aramis rejoined Athos and Anne seconds later, all the while resisting the urge to touch the small bump that was surely forming on his skull, and the three of them then walked out to where d'Artagnan and Porthos were waiting with the carriage. It was indeed snowing, but very lightly, and it was neither sticking nor, thankfully, had it turned the ground into a watery-muddy mess, at least not yet.

"Forgive me for taking so long, messieurs," Anne suddenly began, addressing not only d'Artagnan and Porthos, but Athos as well, turning to him briefly before returning her attention to the others. "I started to feel unwell again and had to sit down. It must be the smell of the incense," she smoothly stated.

While Athos helped her into the carriage, Aramis went to his saddlebags and quickly retrieved a small vial from them. Placing it in his pocket, he mounted his horse and they started their short journey back to the palace.

Once they passed through the palace gates, he signaled his horse to quicken the pace, edging him ahead so that he could dismount and hand over the reins to a pageboy by the time the carriage came to a stop.

Opening the carriage door he stepped closer, peeking his head in to see Anne's confused expression. "I hope the ride did not unsettle you further, Your Majesty," he said loudly. "We can wait if you need a moment for any nausea to pass." He held his hand out, revealing the vial in his palm. "For your headaches," he whispered. "And the nausea. Just crush a little up and add it to your chocolate."

She smiled softly at him before placing her hand on top of his. "Thank you, Aramis," she said in a whisper.

Once she stepped out of the carriage, she took hold of the vial as her hand left his, her hand then falling to her side and disappearing behind a fold in her skirt. Then it was his turn to be confused as her hand reappeared holding a small coin purse.

"Messieurs," she said, calling his brothers to stand before her. Reaching into the purse, she pulled out a few coins and held them out to d'Artagnan at the end. "A token of my thanks," she said, placing the coins into his palm.

She proceeded to go down the line, giving each of them a couple coins, though when she reached Aramis, he placed his hand on his chest and shook his head.

"You have already given me a priceless gift, Majesty," he explained, grasping the bottom of the crucifix while Anne lowered her hand, "I cannot accept any more for merely doing my duty."

A look of fondness appeared on Anne's face before she averted her gaze to the side. She raised her hand back up a second later. "If you won't accept it for yourself, then spend it on your friends."

"Very well," Aramis replied, once again finding himself unable to refuse her. "Your kindness humbles us all." He gave a slight bow of his head after accepting the money, savoring once more the brush of her fingers against this palm while a voice in the back of his head that sounded like Athos asked, "What happened to acting like there was nothing between you?"

Bestowing a grateful smile on them all, Anne bid them a Joyeux Noël and went to walk away, but then d'Artagnan stepped forward.

"Majesty?" he asked with a hint of desperation. Anne turned to him and he went into a half-bow. "Forgive me, but do you have any vacant positions in your household? I was thinking - it's just that I know this woman, a woman who is steadfast and brave and clever and-and loyal and her virtues are wasted as a wife stuck doing simple housework all day."

Aramis' heart ached for d'Artagnan, knowing exactly how it felt to love a woman who was trapped in a marriage with a man who did not love her as she deserved. And he had also seen how lonely and depressed Constance was when he brought David and Gigi to her. A position with Anne could provide some comfort to them all; Constance would have more of a purpose, more opportunities to go places and meet new people, d'Artagnan would have more chances to see her, and Aramis believed Anne and Constance could find solace and friendship with one another, even if Anne never revealed just how much she could relate to the other woman's predicament.

"All of us can, and would gladly, vouch for her, Your Majesty," Porthos added, and Aramis and Athos also nodded their heads in agreement.

"I see. Well, there will most likely be some shuffling of my household once the baby is born and positions open up, I'm sure something can be found to fit a woman of such virtues," Anne answered. "I will consider it and speak to you again, d'Artagnan, sometime in the new year to discuss this further."

MMMMMMMMMM

A small tray was set on the table as she finished getting changed. After thanking her maids and wishing them a good night, Anne waited until the doors clicked shut to retrieve the vial from where she had hidden it in one of the flower arrangements in the few seconds before they came. Finally, she was able to read the label on it: peppermint.

Smiling to herself, she pulled out the stopper. Holding it under her nose, she inhaled the strong scent before taking a couple of the dried leaves out and crushing them between her fingers over the faintly steaming cup of chocolate that had been brought to her.

Picking up the cup and saucer, she went and sat in her bed with her back against the headboard. After taking a tentative sip to test the temperature, she placed the saucer next to her before cradling the warm cup in her cold hands and resting them on her legs. She closed her eyes, her heart still racing from all that had happened between her and Aramis tonight; being able to talk to him so freely about their son, about her hopes and fears, and to express their feelings for each other with not just words but touches and kisses. She wanted to relive it all.

Sighing, she looked over to the other side of her bed, the empty side of the bed, and wished she could once again fall asleep in his arms, that they wouldn't have to go through all these lengths just to talk with each other and exchange the smallest of gifts. In a different life Aramis would have mixed the peppermint into her chocolate himself and then sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. There would be no talk of the Cardinal or secrets or fear for each other's lives, instead they would talk of more mundane things like the sermon they had heard at Midnight Mass or the woman d'Artagnan clearly has feelings for.

Taking a few more sips, Anne lowered the cup from her lips and closed her eyes again, letting the warmth of the liquid and the smell of the peppermint envelop her while she indulged in her fantasies. She was so content that she could have drifted off to sleep right there...but then she felt something.

A hand went to her stomach as she leaned forward and looked down. She placed the cup on the saucer and held her breath, waiting and hoping to feel it again.

And then she felt it.

She grinned, sure in her conviction that she had felt her child move. It had felt like the brush of butterfly wings, but she definitely wasn't imagining it.

"Do you like the peppermint?" she asked aloud, stroking her thumb over the spot where her son had kicked. "It was a gift from your father. Joyeux Noël, dear one."

MMMMMMMMMM

Once they had reported back to the garrison, Aramis decided to take the Queen's suggestion and buy them all drinks. He had seemed to be in a somewhat jolly mood as they walked to the tavern, wishing everyone they passed a Joyeux Noël, and then merrily ordered the drinks for them, but D'Artagnan noted that he had only taken a few sips before leaning back in his seat and taking up his crucifix, idly rubbing it between his fingers while he watched Porthos play cards the next table over with another man. Athos was leaning on the table with a hand wrapped around his drink, but he mostly stared down into it, only now and then throwing a sideways glance in the direction of Aramis and Porthos before taking a long swig, never saying a word.

"Is...everything all right?" d'Artagnan tentatively asked.

Athos looked at him with narrowed eyes before giving a slight shake of his head. "Just tired," he answered, though he didn't sound entirely convincing.

"Look, I know I shouldn't have been so forward and asked a favour of the Queen, I just wanted to help Constance and Her Majesty is so kind."

"Don't worry about it, d'Artagnan," Aramis said, having turned towards them to join the conversation. "Athos is just upset he didn't think of it himself." Athos glared at him, but Aramis ignored it. "It's a brilliant idea," he continued. "The Queen is surrounded by the Cardinal's spies, it would be good for her to have someone she could trust, a confidant even; you should suggest that as a position. And Constance could keep an eye out at the palace and pass us any information or messages about the Cardinal's latest schemes."

"I don't want her to work at the palace so that she can spy for us and make an enemy of the Cardinal," d'Artagnan retorted while Porthos returned to their table. "I just want to give her a chance at freedom, to get away from Bonacieux. Even he wouldn't say no to the connections he could make for his business with his wife working for the Queen."

"I wouldn't worry so much about the Cardinal," Porthos told them. "He's on thin ice with the Queen and even the King's getting annoyed with him."

"D'Artagnan, ultimately we all want is what's best for Constance," Athos assured him before looking to Aramis, "and for her to be safe."

Aramis put a conciliatory hand up. "Of course. And Her Majesty will want that for her as well, I'm sure. She wouldn't take her on if she thought differently."

Once d'Artagnan nodded in acceptance, Aramis turned towards Porthos. "So what happened, you run out of money already?"

"Not me, the other guy, ended it before I cleaned him out."

"How generous of you."

Porthos raised his eyebrows and held his hands out. "It's Christmas," he reasoned.

Aramis gave one of his half-smiles and raised his cup. "So it is."

After knocking their cups together, they took their final sips and then got up to leave, but one of the men Porthos had been playing cards with stumbled over and grabbed Porthos' arm.

"Wait, let me try to win some back," he slurred. "I've still got some money left."

"You've barely got any money and I'm not going to play against you in the state you're in either."

"Why don't you go home, get some sleep, and you can try your luck another day," advised Aramis.

The man scoffed. "Luck," he waved a hand as he turned away, "your man probably cheated."

"Oi," said Porthos, affronted.

Aramis stepped in front of the man, heading him off. He put his hands on his hips. "Now, now, that's not very Christmassy," he said with a mix of sarcasm and sternness. "I think you should apologise."

Ignoring him, the man raised his hand and lifted Aramis' crucifix from his doublet. "Expensive looking piece of jewelry for a soldier to be wearing. How about I play you for it; a gift to woo my woman with."

"Remove your hand, monsieur," Aramis said, the levity in his voice completely gone. The man let go and Aramis took a step forward, somehow managing to look down on the man despite them being the same height. "And apologise to my friend."

The man stepped back as Aramis continued to advance until he nearly stumbled backwards into Porthos.

"S-s-sorry, sorry, messieurs," he said, quickly turning around and then bumping into several chairs as he backed away from them. He raised his hands. "You're right, I've had too much, too much to drink, I should go."

"Porthos?' asked Athos once the man left. " You didn't..."

Then it was Porthos' turn to raise his hands, showing them that nothing was up his sleeves. "I told you I was working on it," he replied as they made their way out. "That there was just pure skill and a bit of luck."

"And playing against a drunk," d'Artagnan added.

"Maybe a bit of that too," Porthos conceded, and d'Artagnan looked behind them to see the man walking in the opposite direction, propping his collar up against the snow.

Stopping, he fished the coins the Queen had gifted him out of his pocket and caught up to the man. "Here!" Taking the man's hand he shoved the coins into it. "Joyeux Noël," he said as the man stared at him blankly, then ran back to his brothers before the man could react.

The others had come to a stop and Porthos clapped him on the shoulder when he reached them. "Good lad," he told him, and then the four of them continued on their way towards Constance's house so that Aramis could check on David.

They were almost there when d'Artagnan heard a cry of pain. He looked to his brothers and saw on their faces that they had heard it too. "Constance," he murmured, suddenly feeling ice cold as fear enveloped his mind; fear of an angry Bonacieux, fear of a vengeful Milady. Without another thought he set off for the house, barely registering his brothers calling his name and then their own footsteps as they ran after him.

Coming around the corner, he crashed into someone, and the person fell onto him with a small exclamation of surprise. Landing on his back, he started to try and shake off the thick dark hair that was covering his face, but stopped when he recognized the scent of it.

"Constance?"

"D'Artagnan?" replied Constance, lifting her head to look at him. They stared into each others eyes for several seconds until his brothers came to a halt in front of them.

"What's- urgh", he groaned as Constance started to push herself off of him, elbowing him in the stomach in the process. Porthos then helped her to her feet. "What's going on?" he asked before taking Athos' offered hand. "We heard a scream."

"Is it Gigi?" asked Aramis.

Constance nodded. "The baby's coming. I have to get the local midwife."

"Aramis, do you think you and Constance can tend to Gigi while we fetch the midwife?" Athos suggested, to which Aramis nodded.

"I can help them too," added Porthos.

"Right, then d'Artagnan and I will go." And with that, Constance gave the two of them directions before they split up to fulfill their respective tasks.

MMMMMMMMMM

Constance led Aramis and Porthos into the room, where they found Gigi bent over the top of a chest in the corner, gripping the ends with both hands, and David by her side with an arm wrapped around her. The two of them looked over to see who had walked in.

"Constance, I thought you were getting a midwife, not Musketeers," David said, sounding slightly panicked.

"I was, but then I ran into them, literally."

"Athos and d'Artagnan are getting the midwife," Aramis assured them as he began taking off his cloak, weapons, and doublet. "We're just going to help things along until she gets here." He looked to Constance. "If you could get some linens, um, shears, and some soap and water, to wash my hands. Porthos, more light in here, please."

As the others went about their duties, Aramis went over to Gigi. "Gigi, how are you doing? Are you holding up all right?"

She nodded, breathing deeply through her nostrils as he rubbed her back. "I thought they were false pains, practice ones, my cousin had them, the others had gone to bed and I didn't want to wake them, but then my water…" she trailed off and tilted her head to the side, directing Aramis' gaze to a small puddle on the floor near the window.

A whimper brought Aramis' attention back to her as another wave of pain came.

"They're getting closer and closer," she panted once the contraction ended.

Aramis continued rubbing a hand across her shoulders while David massaged her lower back in small circles and softly reminded her to breathe. "You said yesterday that your back was hurting more than usual," he remembered. "You thought it was from all the activity. Do you think that might have actually been the start of the labour pains?"

"I suppose, but Aramis," she looked up to him and he saw not only tears in her eyes, but fear, "the baby wasn't supposed to come until the new year."

"But only just, right? There's no need for alarm if we're a week or two early," he said with conviction, not wanting her or David to worry. "Babies tend to do as they like and it seems this one heard of the beauty of Paris during Christmastime and wanted to be here for it," he lightly suggested, glad to get a glimmer of a smile from her.

By now, Constance had returned with the supplies and Porthos had brought more candles into the room. Constance held up a heavy blanket and looked pointedly from them to the bed. Aramis nodded in understanding. "Gigi, do you want to sit or lie down on the bed, or do you want to stay here?"

"The bed," Gigi answered, breathing harshly. "But my legs...I don't know if I can move."

"Sure you can. It's just a couple of side steps to the end of the bed, and David and Porthos will help you, all right? I'm going to wash up." Aramis stepped to the side and Porthos took his place, holding his arms up so Gigi could grab onto them.

"Just tell us when you're ready, my love," David told her while Aramis went over to the basin Constance had brought for him.

Rolling up his sleeves, he washed his hands and forearms, and was glad to hear the creak of the bed, but a second later he heard Gigi cry out, and looked to see Porthos nearly down on one knee before her while she pressed her forehead into his chest, her hands gripping his forearms.

Gigi gasped for air once the pain subsided. "Aramis, I can't wait for the midwife, I want to push," she declared, prompting Porthos to give him a worried look.

Aramis turned to Constance, who was standing by the front window. "Any sign of them?" he asked in a low voice.

Constance gave him a sorry look and shook her head.

Aramis sucked in a breath as he dried his hands; he wished the midwife were here. He wasn't completely comfortable about handling this part, or rather the possible complications that could arise, not that he could let any of them know that. Steeling himself, he gave a nod of his head to signal to Porthos that he could get up, and then dropped a folded blanket onto the floor for him to kneel on.

He placed a small pile of linens next to him before putting his hands on Gigi's knees and looking up into her watery eyes. He held her gaze. "If that's what your body is telling you to do, then listen to it."

"Here," said Porthos, placing several pillows behind her before sitting next to her on the bed.

David thanked him from where he sat on Gigi's other side, holding her hand. He then looked at Aramis. "Thank you," he said with deep sincerity.

Aramis nodded and then returned his focus back to Gigi, gently pushing her legs further apart and drawing her chemise up to her thighs. "All right, Gigi, when the next pain comes, start pushing."

They only had to wait a couple of seconds for it to come, and Aramis braced her legs as she bore down.

"Constance, some more light," Aramis requested once the contraction ended. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her grab one of the lit candles and then felt the heat of it near his face as she stood behind him.

Another contraction came and went with no sign of progress. "Keep breathing, Gigi," Aramis coached her. "Gather all your strength. And don't worry about squeezing Porthos' fingers too hard. If you break them, then we can finally find out whether he can still best every Musketeer in wrestling with only one hand."

Gigi only continued panting, her gaze past his shoulder, and he briefly wondered if she had heard him, but then the next pain came and she let out her most forceful groan yet, resulting in a sight that brought him a wave of relief.

"The head is coming," he announced.

"Did you hear that, Gigi?" David asked excitedly, and Aramis was glad to see a wavering smile on Gigi's face in between gasping breaths.

"You're almost there," cheered Constance after Aramis reported another successful push.

"You're doing marvelously, Gigi, you just need to push one more time," he told her, grabbing a cloth.

"One more time, love, one more time," David repeated.

"Give it everything you've got," encouraged Porthos.

She nodded, drawing in sharp breaths through her nostrils before gritting her teeth as the next contraction started.

"Push, push, push," Aramis chanted while Gigi gave the longest, most drawn out groan. And once he had a hold of a tiny pair of shoulders, he helped ease the baby out. "A girl," he happily informed everyone over the soft cries that started to fill the air. "Hello to you too," he said to the baby as he cradled her against his chest.

Grabbing another cloth, he wiped around her nose and mouth before loosely wrapping her and holding her up. "Your daughter," he proudly said as Gigi took her from him. Both she and David were crying tears of joy now as they held their daughter together.

Looking to Porthos and Constance, he saw that they both wore matching smiles of joy and relief, and when Porthos met his gaze, he nodded, silently commending him. Aramis nodded back in thanks before returning his attention to what still had to be done. "Constance, the shears," he prompted.

A second after he cut the cord, he heard the front door bang open and the thunder of footsteps, causing him to give an exasperated shake of his head as he chuckled to himself.

"Of course," muttered Constance next to him.

Athos came swiftly into the room, followed by an older, grey-haired woman, and then d'Artagnan, who came to a halt in the doorway.

Aramis held a finger in front of his mouth. "Shhh, you'll wake the baby!" he said in a sharp whisper before breaking out into a grin as both Athos and d'Artagnan tossed their heads back and let out small groans.

The midwife gave an amused smile. "Well, all you need is some animals and you'll have the whole nativity in here," she said, looking around the room.

Aramis stood up and wiped his hands as she made her way over to the little family.

"Looks like I missed all the excitement. May I see?" Stepping closer, she peeked into the small bundle as Gigi and David pulled the ends of the cloth open. The midwife hummed. "A little early was she? Not to worry, she's tiny and a little wrinkled, but otherwise looks perfectly healthy," she smiled kindly.

Taking a step back, the midwife swept her gaze over the room before speaking to Aramis. "Has the afterbirth been delivered yet?"

"Not yet."

"I'll see to it then, and after I'll do a more thorough examination and see them cleaned up. You three wise men and the shepherd boy can go and have a seat," she turned to Constance, "so long as you don't mind assisting me, madame."

"Not at all." Constance answered. She then turned to Aramis and his brothers and told them to have a seat at the table and help themselves to some food if they were hungry.

"Let me know if you need any help," Aramis told them. He turned to David and Gigi and put his hands on their shoulders. "Congratulations. She's beautiful."

Once David let go of his hand and stopped thanking him, Aramis joined the others at the table and sat heavily in a chair by the fireplace. He leaned back and closed his eyes. "What a night."

"What a Christmas," amended Porthos.

"Did everything go all right with the baby?" Athos inquired.

"Yeah, well, I'm still regaining feeling in my fingers, but Aramis had it all under control."

"How many times have you done that, Aramis?" asked d'Artagnan.

Opening his eyes, Aramis brought his head forward and shook it lightly. "First time."

"You're joking."

"Well, I've been at or around a few births; some of my younger siblings, and children of women my mother knew. I helped her out with a couple, but I've never actually been the one to deliver the child. Thankfully this one was extremely quick and easy. And thanks to you two, the midwife will make sure everything's fine and taken care of."

They sat there for a while, hearing an occasional cry from the baby and muffled laughter from the adults, and watched Constance come in and out of the room to fetch various items. The first time she did, d'Artagnan jumped out of his chair and motioned to help carry the large basin she had in her arms, but she went straight by without turning her head and Aramis watched Porthos reach over and pat him on the arm, signaling him to sit down and relax.

When the midwife came through with her bag though, they all stood up.

"Well, messieurs, everything seems to be in order; the babe has been fed, mother's sitting back, and father says you can come back in if you like."

Athos went over to the midwife and held out several coins, "For your services."

She waved him off. "Keep it. You lot did most of the work. Besides, it's Christmas."

"At least let us offer you a drink," proposed Porthos, pouring a cup of wine.

"Oh all right," she said, capitulating. "Only to keep me warm on the way home." She took the offered cup and after a couple of sips, set it down. Then, after kindly refusing that any of them accompany her home, she wished them all a Joyeux Noël and left.

With one more drink from his own cup, Aramis put his doublet back on - though he left it open - and allowing his brothers to go before him, brought up the end of the line.

The second Aramis walked into the room he could feel the happiness radiating from the little family now sitting back against the pillows at the head of the bed. Gigi had the duvet pulled up to her waist and David was sitting next to her on top of it. They greeted their visitors with beaming smiles and Gigi tilted her arms so that a little scrunched up face could be seen among the folds of the blanket. The baby yawned then, eliciting chuckles from them all, and stretched a hand out, upon which David gave her one of his fingers to hold.

"So it seems someone wanted to stay in Paris a bit longer," Aramis lightly joked, though it caused David and Gigi to look at each other with uncertainty.

"And we insist that you allow us to cover the cost of the rest of your extended stay," Athos quickly interjected, "as a gift to the three of you."

"Thank you, for all your help," David told them with deep sincerity.

"I will have to talk my cousin into having you all over for Christmas next year," Gigi added.

_Next Christmas_...Porthos' response about wanting to see the baby again became muffled as Aramis realised that next Christmas will be his son's first Christmas. And as he watched David kiss Gigi's temple before looking down at his daughter in adoration it hit him that he won't have this with Anne. It won't be him sitting next to her, it won't be him holding his newborn son's hand, he might not even be able to see them until days later.

"Excuse me," he mumbled before slipping out of the room, his emotions starting to overwhelm him.

He headed straight outside into the brisk cold air and ran his hands through his hair, grabbing tightly at the strands as he walked around to the side of the house. Crouching down he inhaled deeply as he heard the front door open and close behind him.

"Aramis," said Athos.

He let his hands fall to his sides and his knees fall to the snowy ground, ignoring how his leg wound was starting to protest all the activity he'd done today. "Please don't lecture me, Athos. Just let me" - he swallowed back the lump in his throat - "let me grieve the moments I'll never have with them."

He heard Athos' approaching footsteps and when he felt a hand on his shoulder it was his undoing. His shoulders began to shake and tears sprang from his eyes, and as Athos joined him on the ground and took him into his arms, Aramis finally let out all the sorrow and despair he had been holding in since learning Anne was carrying his child; a child he could never claim as his own, and a woman he could never openly love.

He softly cried into Athos' shoulder for some minutes until Athos finally spoke.

"The others will be wondering where we are, unless you want to tell th-"

"No," Aramis quickly cut him off, pushing away to look him in the eyes. "I won't put them in danger, not unless it's absolutely necessary." He wiped away the tears on his face. "Go inside, make something up if they ask, just give me another minute."

Athos nodded and laid a hand on Aramis' shoulder once more before getting up and going inside.

Taking his handkerchief out, Aramis dragged it over his face and blinked away the last remaining tears. After a few steadying breaths, he stood up and brushed the dirt and snow off his knees, hoping his trousers wouldn't look noticeably damp.

Walking inside, he was relieved to find that everyone was still with David, Gigi, and the baby. Putting his hands on his hips, he took a final deep breath before starting towards the room, though he halted in his steps when he spotted David's guitar by the fireplace.

Entering the room, he saw that Constance was holding the baby now and David and Gigi had sunk back into the pillows, both looking exhausted but at the same time blissfully happy.

"Do we have a name yet?" Aramis asked after a few seconds.

Gigi and David both smiled at him before looking over at Constance and their daughter.

"Constance Noëlle," Gigi replied.

Constance's head jerked up. "Oh, that is-"

"A way to express our thanks," David explained. "And because everyday will be Christmas for us."

"I'm honoured," said Constance, her eyes flickering over to where d'Artagnan stood looking fondly at them before smiling softly down at little Constance.

"A beautiful name for a beautiful baby." Aramis concluded. "I thought I might play a little something," he proposed, holding up the guitar. "Nothing too boisterous, a lullaby, if you will."

David looked to Gigi, who nodded. "That would be lovely, thank you," she said.

Taking the chair Athos offered him, Aramis sat down and plucked a few strings to warm up. Once ready, he cleared his throat and began to play. He looked around the room as he plucked the chords, taking in all the smiling faces, and the love and warmth that surrounded him. _This bunch of broken hearts is still a family. _And they will see him through this.

With a deep breath, he began in a soft voice, "_Let us sing __Noël…_"

* * *

Historical and Biblical background/inspiration:

-Gigi and David are, of course, meant to be versions of Mary and Joseph. Gigi is short for Virginie as in the Virgin Mary, and Joseph was a descendant of King David. Lisette is a French form of Elizabeth. Elizabeth was a relative of Mary and mother to John the Baptist.

-On the coat of arms for dauphins, the dolphins are blue with red fins

-"Although Philip went traveling alone for short periods of time during the early stages of her pregnancies, he was usually very reluctant to leave the queen when she approached the final stages. Margaret's frequent pregnancies thus ensured that Philip III would often be by her side. In fact, after 1606 [when Philip IV was born], the monarch rarely left the queen alone for extended periods. These are clear signs of the affectionate, loving marriage that Philip III and Margaret of Austria enjoyed" - Magdalena S. Sánchez, _The Empress, the Queen, and the_ _Nun_


End file.
